Mirrors

I've always been a little fascinated by mirrors. The illusion of an alternate reality they create is alluring, especially for a child's mind. I remember, as a kid, staring into the bathroom mirror of my childhood home, imagining it was a portal into a similar but slightly different version of "things as they were." Like Alice in "Through the Looking Glass".

My cat Banjo was similarly convinced of the mirror world's substantiality. He would perch himself in front of full length mirrors and watch the reflections of people in the room as if they were the actual people themselves. The he'd go up on his hind legs and started feverishly scratching at the mirror in a desperate attempt to join everyone on the other side of the "window". It was hilarious...and a little sad. Banjo wasn't the brightest bulb in the bunch.

As an adult I'm still somewhat enticed by the illusion. It's amazing to me what a difference mirrors can make in a small room. Throw one on the wall and suddenly your room appears to double in size. In an instant a flat surface transforms into a lifelike room addition, and a claustrophia-inducing space is expanded into a breathable environment.

Plus mirrors allow you to fix your hair. Very positive.

Using Your Pets for Your Own Amusement

Owning pets has its rewards. They are instant family members, loyal to the end. They love you unconditionally, largely because their brains aren't hefty enough to process the concept of "conditions." Nor can they distinguish a laser pointer point from an actual, capture-able thing, and that's the sort of thing I'm writing about today.

Pets are great diversions. It's a riot watching little feline junkies pine for a fix of catnip, and then roll around in ecstasy with little regard for the fact that their fur is getting coated in their drug of choice. My cats (Banjo especially, back when he was around) are also absolutely transfixed by plastic bags. They perch themselves halfway into the bag, licking its inner surface incessantly. I can't imagine it's the flavor they're after. It must be the crinkly sound and the feel of the plastic on their tongues. Or maybe it's a natural offshoot of licking lead paint earlier in life. I'm not sure, but it's bizarre and hilarious.

Banjo also used to flip out for laser pointers. He'd run himself ragged; in circles, up walls, up and down from furniture trying to catch and kill that little red dot. It didn't matter that he'd never even managed to touch it before, let alone capture it. He wasn't about to let seeming invulnerability stop him from hunting his prey. And he reacted that way at fourteen years old. I only wish I'd had laser pointers when he was younger. I think his head would have literally exploded.

Fetch is a favorite game with our canine friends, a game that would never work with another human. It would be like dropping your pencil repeatedly and expecting your friend to pick it up for you every time and enjoy the privilege. But dogs freaking love it. Any opportunity to run anywhere is a good one. And that's why using your pets for your own amusement is so great. Not only are you enjoying yourself, but they are, too. When your dog rolls over, plays dead, or shakes hands, he's getting the satisfaction of a job well done. With Banjo and his laser pointer, the hunt is more important than the capture. So, unless you like to painfully torture small mammals for your own amusement, generally it's a two-way street of fun.


The fun doesn't really start until about halfway through the video.

Good Cry

We had to say goodbye to our dear friend, Banjo today. My entry tonight is the release you feel after having a good cry. Good cries make you let go of all your trapped negative emotions. You shouldn't be ashamed of having a melt down every so often, it keeps you centered and helps you feel alive. The trick is learning to control them and contain them when the heavy moments hit you. I'm still having trouble in this department, but I'm conscience of it and I'm working on getting the kinks out.

Dear Banjo, I miss your amazing energetic presence, I hope your having fun with Holly and Hans. Love you buddy! Here are a few more tears for you. Your dear friend and mom, Kate

Healers Truly Devoted to Healing

Some of  you already know this, but Kate and I had to put Banjo to sleep this afternoon.  His condition had worsened to the point where the vet felt like no amount of effort, medicine or anything else would ever make him healthy again, and that an end to suffering was more important.

So before I continue let's, all of us that knew him, say a quick goodbye.

Goodbye, old friend.  You're missed.

--

So, right before all of this happened I switched Banjo and DB to the vet Kate has been taking Midnight.  They were recommended by a friend of ours, and Kate seemed to really like them.  For a number of reasons I needed to leave my old vet, and Banjo's issue provided a reason to make the shift.

Light Street Animal Hospital.  If you live in Baltimore City, we highly recommend them.  What impressed me most was the level of compassion demonstrated by the whole staff.  We had techs coming out and saying hello, and expressing their sympathy.  And John, the doctor, was excellent.  He was extremely empathetic throughout the entire process, especially today, at the roughest point.  He even gave Kate and I a hug afterwards.

I expect a vet to know his or her stuff, medically.  Clearly if they fail that measure they shouldn't be practicing.  But that's really only half the game.  A good bedside manner is just as important.  And I think a good bedside manner has less to do with base personality, and more to do with real empathy.  And really, primary to all of that is a true commitment to healing.  That's a bit rarer, I think, and it's a real gift when you find it.

Thanks Doctor John (I don't know his last name).  You made this whole process a little more bearable.

The Time You Had, Not the Time You Won't Have

So Banjo isn't looking very good.  It's seems a struggle for him just to sit up and walk.  After his force-feeding this evening, Kate said (I missed it, I was cleaning the syringe) that he tried walking in from the hallway and then collapsed flat out, as if he were completely drained.  We're taking him back to the vet tomorrow morning, and I have the awful feeling they're going to recommend putting him to sleep.  And probably right then.

So I was having a tough time coming up with my positive for today.  I considered something goofy, totally out of context from real-life, but that seemed disingenuous.  I decided to focus on Banjo, and came up with sort of a corollary to an earlier post I made.  As I'm facing the almost certain loss of a beloved pet, I should keep my attention on the 14 years he was around.  The 14 years we got to spend together.  The 14 years of friendship.  Focusing on the loss, and his absence once he's gone, accomplishes nothing.

So that's what I'm going to do.  If he has to go tomorrow, I'll let him.  It'll suck for sure, but then he'll be out of pain and I can still keep the previous 14 years in my heart.

I'll just pretend he's living on a farm in Iowa somewhere.

Kind Creatures

My pets fascinate me, so many animals fascinate me. They can be so lovable right when you need them most, they are always there for you and they can be so darn cute. I love my three cats dearly. Midnight, is my cat and she's the queen of the house, she rules the castle by being the moodiest and most demanding. But, she can be the cutest sweetheart if you pet her right and give her food.

Jason's Siamese cat, DB., has the most striking looking features, he is a real cuddle bug and the most endearing cat in the house (he sleeps in-between Jason's legs every night, it can get kind of cumbersome sometimes). Jason and I consider him our baby and until recently he was the one with the most medical issues.

Jason's coolest cat, Banjo, recently started showing signs of illness, when we picked him up a few weeks ago and he was skin and bone. Comes to find out he hadn't eaten at all in the past few days. Now since then, we've been giving him hunger stimulates and feeding him manually, and he still hasn't eaten on his own and is getting more and more sick looking. This entry goes out to Banjo, just a couple months ago he could perform some crazy, scaling acrobatics, he was fearless, and always so chill. He is the King of the House, and really admire his strength and the confidence he always carried. Banjo, I love you dearly. I heard a phrase from my darling sister, who very recently had to sadly put her two loving boxer dogs down; that pets teach us about two things: they teach you how to love and they teach you about death.

I love our cats

Our cat Banjo hasn't been feeling well lately. The vet listed a few scenarios that could explain his symptoms, and so far tests have ruled out everyone of them except for an extreme shift in food preference and cancer. And Banjo's never been terribly finicky. It's a very strange experience. Banjo has been healthy his entire life. I honestly can't remember a time in the last 14 years when he's been even slightly ill. I was beginning to imagine that he was either the feline equivalent of a Highlander, or just too dim to figure out how to get sick (Banjo's agile and friendly...but he's not a triple threat.)

So to suddenly seem him sleeping all the time, not eating, and slinking around with his head low, breaks my heart. In the process though, I'm reminded about just how important he, and DB, and now Midnight (Kate's cat) are to me. I figure I've known Banjo and DB longer than most of the people in my life. In a very real sense, they are two of my oldest friends. And my only non-english speaking friends.

So yeah. I love our cats. It's an obvious positive, I'll admit. But it's not until you're faced with potential loss that you realize fully what it is you have.